The Life and Lies of Daryl Dixon
by dietcocacola101
Summary: Daryl is a complex character, we all know that. He's sweet and then he's not. He goes from a socially awkward, racist, squirrel-eating redneck to one of the group's most relied-on members. But how did Daryl get to become that socially awkward, racist, squirrel-eating redneck? Daryl has a back story of his very own, the story of why he is how he is.
1. Chapter 1

**The Life and Lies of Daryl Dixon**

Two small golden globes appeared in the distance. The globes grew larger and larger as they got closer to his house and Daryl saw that the globes were headlights and they were attached to a car. A car that blinded him with its headlights as it drove past his house and, thankfully, did not pull into his driveway.

Tomorrow was Daryl's eighth birthday. It also happened to be on the same weekend that Merle got home from juvie. Daryl's father had left an hour ago to go pick him up and Daryl was staring out his bedroom window, calmly watching the cars go by and each time hoping it wasn't his dad's car, coming to bring Merle home to ruin his birthday.

It wasn't that Daryl didn't want to see him. He loved his brother…sometimes. Merle could be overbearing and in his absence, Daryl had gotten used to not getting punched in the head every time he opened his mouth. He would miss that. Daryl continued gazing out the window for hours, until he fell asleep on the ledge, the side of his face pressed against the glass. His soft snores filled the room as he slept, his small and bruised body getting the rest it needs. He slept hard for a few minutes and did not dream. Daryl awoke when his father's car groaned and whined up the driveway. He watched his dad stumble out of the car and into the house, but no Merle.

Daryl got up from his perch on the ledge next to the window and padded downstairs in his bare feet. His father had his back to him and was pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Daryl waited patiently for him to finish his drink before asking questions but when his dad finished his first drink, he poured himself another.

Daryl timidly cleared his throat and asked, "Where's Merle?"

Mr. Dixon did not turn around. He simply poured himself another glass when he had finished off his second. Daryl tried again.

"Dad? Where's Merle?"

"The jag offs who run that juvie center lied to us. They said Merle would be free to go this weekend if he had good behavior. _Good behavior._ What is that shit?"

Good behavior. Of course. Daryl wasn't sure if Merle knew _how_ to be on good behavior. His dad poured himself another glass and muttered to himself and Daryl knew their conversation was over. He crept back up the stairs and reassumed his post on the ledge next to the window. He no longer had anything to look for but the ledge was a nice place to think.

Daryl felt dirty. He was covered in dirt and grime and he _smelled._ His mom had been complaining to his dad all week about their water getting shut off. Well, actually, she _had_ been complaining about it until his dad smacked her a few days ago and she hadn't brought it up since. To pile it onto the crap sandwich, Merle wouldn't be happy if there was no water when he got home. There was so much shit to worry about but not right now. Right now he would relax, sleep a while, and maybe eat some of the Halloween candy he had hidden under his bed.

* * *

Daryl woke up the next morning feeling no different. Eight felt no different than seven, but then again, he hadn't expected it to. He had fallen asleep with his face against the window but this time it was for the whole night. The sun shone in through the window and made the glass warm against his cheek. It was comfortable here and he didn't want to get up, but his mother was calling him. If it had been Merle or his father, he might have told them to screw themselves, but he had a soft spot for his mom. Merle always called him a mama's boy and Daryl denied it every time, but deep down he knew it was the truth.

Daryl snatched a candy bar from his stash under the bed before continuing to the master bedroom. Halloween had only been eight days ago, so his stash was still pretty full. He had grabbed his favorite – he thought he deserved a treat on his golden birthday.

"_Daryl!_" His mother's raspy voice croaked from the bedroom and he picked up the pace.

"Yeah, ma?"

"You come when I call you, goddamn it," she said and lit a cigarette. Virginia Slims.

"I did, ma."

"Not fast enough. I shouldn't have to call ya more than once, boy."

"I'm sorry."

She wagged a finger at him. "I'll let it go this time because it's your birthday. It _is_ your birthday, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Don't 'uh-huh' me. Say, 'yes, ma'am'."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's better," his mother said and stretched. As she outstretched her arms, she flicked some cigarette ash onto the carpet.

"Be careful with your cig, ma, you could start a fire," Daryl said, stomping out the lit ashes with his bare foot. You'd better believe that hurt.

"Don't you go tellin' me what to do, boy. Look at you, acting all high and mighty now. Well, I'm still the parent, ain't I? And you're still the kid?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. Now go into the closet and get your present. Go on!" she cried and puffed cigarette smoke in his face to get him going.

A trembling excitement filled Daryl more and more with every step. This had the potential to be a very cruel joke but he was willing to take the risk. The half-eaten candy bar in his pocket was long forgotten after the mention of a present. _A present._ His family had never given him a birthday cake, let alone a present.

Daryl opened the closet door and got on his knees to rummage through all the junk in his parents' closet. He pushed aside crumpled clothes and warm wine bottles that had been forgotten about, scouring each inch of the closet for wrapping paper.

"Did you find it yet?" his mother called.

"No."

"Well, keep lookin'!"

"I don't see any wrappin' paper, ma! What color is it?" he asked.

She let out a harsh laugh. "_Wrapping paper?_ What do you think we are, rich? It's wrapped in old newspaper, dummy."

He could see it now, tucked away behind an old shoebox filled with mouse traps. The gift wasn't even put into a box it was just a small object wrapped with large amounts of newspaper and tape. He grabbed the gift and trotted back to his mother's side, next to the bed.

"Well, what are you waitin' for? Open it!"

It took Daryl a while to get all the tape off but when he did, a small wooden object fell into his hand. A slingshot. Jeez, what a jip.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yeah," he lied. "Thanks, ma."

His mom made him pick up all the newspaper and tape before he retreated to his bedroom and when he did, he threw the slingshot onto his bed. What a waste of a present. His parents should have gotten him something useful or fun. What was he supposed to do with a slingshot? Fling paper balls at girls in his class? He already did that on his own.

Daryl shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He knew better than that. He headed downstairs and outside to climb the tree in the front yard and all of a sudden, missed Merle terribly. His brother would have made his birthday at least _interesting._ What did a few beatings matter?


	2. Chapter 2

His birthday had been boring. So Daryl woke up the next day, determined not to make this day the same. He could hear the neighborhood kids shouting and laughing outside his window and went out to join them. He could do that with Merle gone.

The neighborhood kids were all a little older than him so he should have expected them to be playing Big Kid games. He wasn't, though, so he was caught completely by surprise when he ran outside and they were all racing down the street on their bikes.

"Shoot," he muttered and chased after them.

Daryl was used to running around a lot but even he got tired after a few blocks. He couldn't keep up. Thankfully, one of the boys noticed him and took pity.

"Hey! Guys, hold up!" the boy cried and the other boys braked their bikes and looked back at him. "Wait up for Daryl."

"Come on, Michael! He doesn't even have a bike! He can't keep up with us!" another boy pointed out, and Daryl glared at him.

"I'm faster than you think," Daryl stated, puffing out his chest. He was still exhausted from chasing them this far but the other kids didn't have to know that.

"Okay, fine. Race with us, Daryl. You'll be on foot, we'll be on bikes. Deal?" the boy asked.

"No way! Unfair!" Michael cried. Daryl was starting to hate this Michael kid. He could take care of himself!

"Shut up, Mikey! You're only being nice to the kid so Merle won't kick your ass when he comes back!"

"Fuck you, Travis!"

"Fuck _you!_"

Daryl watched the argument with mild amusement. Most of these boys were twelve – Merle's age. He could tell because of the constant use of the word "fuck" and all the Yo Mama jokes floating around. He hoped he wasn't anything like these losers when _he_ was twelve.

"– fine. The kid can use shortcuts and cut through yards and stuff. It'll be more fair. Happy, Mikey?" Travis asked smugly.

Michael turned to Daryl. "Is that okay?" Daryl nodded and wondered if what Travis had said before was true. Was Michael only being nice to him because he was afraid of Merle?

"On your marks…" Travis announced. The big kids tensed on their bikes. "…get set…" Daryl wildly searched for a shortcut. "…_GO!_" The big kids took off, their bike tires squealing and screeching. Daryl yelped and took off after them. He didn't even know where the finish line was!

Daryl huffed and puffed and his chest was on fire. He had a desire to quit but didn't dare. Dixons don't quit and they don't give up. They keep trying until the job gets done. He saw the big kids starting to turn right and veered that direction as well, cutting through backyards and hopping fences instead of using the street.

Daryl was focused now. He had a large cramp in his stomach that pulsed with white hot pain with every step and he couldn't feel his legs, but he kept going. He would win. He would and win and Merle would be proud of him. Daryl could see the street where the big kids were riding their bikes on and doubled the speed to get there faster.

"Hey! There 'e is!" a boy cried, lazily riding his bike up and down the street. That made Daryl madder than anything. The big kids weren't even _trying._ Were they that sure they would win? Well, he'd show them.

"Oh shit! Look at him go!" Travis cried and the big kids started to pedal harder, their effort rising to the max when they saw how close Daryl was to the finish line, which was a line on the street written in chalk.

One, two, three kids on bikes whizzed past him and then he dove across the finish line. Fourth place. Hey, fourth place when there were seven other kids on bikes wasn't bad. Travis, Michael, and the others were too busy making fun of the poor kid who came in eighth to notice him collapse on the street. Red-faced and wheezing, Daryl lay on the street, not caring if a car came by and ran him over. He wouldn't get up for anything.

"Ayuh, Daryl. Get up. You can't just keep layin' there in the middle of the road. A car might come by and run your sorry ass over," one of the boys said, poking him with his foot. Daryl looked up and saw that the boy was Michael. Daryl grunted.

"Come on, Dixon, get up. I don't want to be held res-_pon_-sub-le if you get run over," Michael said and nudged him with his foot again. "We wanna race again! C'mon!"

"No! Screw all'a ya! I'm _tired!_" Daryl snapped. Michael and the others left him alone for a while. He eventually crawled out of the street and under the shade of a large tree, where he watched the big kids pop wheelies and do other tricks on their bikes. When Daryl got his strength back, he approached them and was about to propose a rematch when sirens began to go off in the distance.

"Hey, what's that?" a boy named Connor asked Michael.

"How in the hell should _I_ know? Let's go find out, idjit!" Michael replied, and he and the big kids took off again. _Great. More running,_ Daryl thought bitterly but ran after them nonetheless. There was _no way_ he was missing the excitement.

Daryl ran after them but he couldn't keep up. By the time he turned the corner, the boys on their bikes were nowhere in sight. Daryl never stopped chasing them, though. He kept running after the noise of the siren, the wind whipping through his hair and the bitter November cold biting at his cheeks.

The sirens grew louder and louder with every step and he could feel his excitement growing. Maybe he would see somebody being arrested! It was always funny seeing some sorry sucker fighting the cops tooth and nail when that sorry sucker isn't your brother.

Daryl turned the corner onto his street and stopped, for multiple reasons. First, all of his friends were staring at him. _Everyone_ was staring at him, and he couldn't figure out why. So what if he was on foot while the other kids had bikes? He was poor, big deal! It wasn't like this was _news_ to anybody, so why were they all staring? Then he looked around and realized that this was _his_ neighborhood. The big, red fire trucks and the ambulance with the flashing lights were at _his_ house. Everybody and their mothers were standing in their front yards, observing the scene and gossiping amongst themselves.

Daryl wanted to scream at them. They had been standing in their front yards, watching and gossiping, every tie Merle got arrested and every time his parents would be drunkenly fighting in their front yard, slurring their words and throwing beer bottles at each other. Always watching and judging, never lifting a finger to help him, pretending they couldn't hear him shouting when his father beat him. Daryl hated them. They were no better than his family, even if they acted like it.

"Daryl," Michael said weakly. "Daryl, I'm sorry."

Daryl shoved past him, not listening. A large numbness was taking over. He couldn't process what was happening and was glad. All he knew was that something very horrible had happened and he didn't want to know about it. Not now, not ever.

His feet carried him down the street and to his house. Or rather, what was left of his house. It had burn to the ground. There was nothing left of his home but a smoldering pile of ash.

"Little boy! Little boy, you can't be here! Step back!" a police officer said, holding out his arm to stop Daryl from continuing onward.

"I live here," Daryl said. The police officer's face quickly changed from stern to sympathetic.

"What's your name, kiddo?" the officer asked.

"Daryl Dixon."

"Well, Daryl, my name is Officer Ronaldo. Do you have anyone you can stay with?"

"My dad is at Joe's Bar, I think. But why the hell does _that_ matter? My mom is here."

"Daryl, I have some very bad news. Do ya want to sit down, kiddo?" Officer Ronaldo asked, gesturing to a porch step.

Daryl wished he would stop calling him "kiddo". Why was this guy being so nice? People in town were never nice to the Dixons.

"I wanna talk to my ma! Where is she? _Tell me!_" Daryl spat out those last two words with ferocity. He was tired of, as Merle often put it, fuckin' around. He wanted to see his mother and he wanted to see her _now._

"Your mother didn't make it," Officer Ronaldo said gently. "We think…"

Daryl tuned him out after that. He didn't need to hear his stupid theories. He knew what happened. His ma's cigarette. Her goddamn _cigarette._ He was always warnin' her not to fall asleep while she was smoking. Now look what happened! She burned up, probably drunk in bed.

"– you okay? Daryl?" Officer Ronaldo asked him and then barked to another officer: "Hey, find this kid's dad! Call Joe's Bar and ask for a guy with a last name of Dixon! Do it _now,_ ya hear?" The other officer hurried off, leaving Daryl with Officer Ronaldo.

The numbness was creeping back and Daryl couldn't help but feel like none of this was real. He kept thinking his mother would pull into the driveway in their crappy car and holler for him to take in the groceries. The whole idea seemed so…possible. He couldn't believe it. His mother was just gone. Erased. He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Tears prickled in Daryl's eyes. He would not cry. Not because he wasn't sad or because he was afraid people would tease him, but because he knew Merle and his father wouldn't cry. He wouldn't be the only Dixon to cry over his ma's death. No way. Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets and felt something hard and wooden. Curious, he pulled it out.

The slingshot.

Now he remembered. He had put it in his pocket that morning so he could throw it out. His lame birthday gift was the last thing of his mother's he had.

* * *

Merle got out of juvie that weekend for the funeral and after that, he would be back in juvie for another month. On the day of the fire, Daryl would have killed to see his brother but now, one week later, he wasn't sure. Merle didn't seem the slightest bit upset and kept cussing all over the place about having to use his (stolen) money to buy something nice to wear to the funeral.

Everything the Dixons had ever owned had burned up last week and Daryl's dad was madder than he had ever seen him. Daryl had gotten beatings from his father before but nothing like this. Usually, when his dad was mad, he would hit their mother for being a smart mouth or Merle, because he was older and always screwing up. Hardly ever Daryl. But now Merle and his mom weren't around and his father needed someone to take his frustrations out on.

"Did Dad do that to you?" Merle asked, lighting a cigarette and gesturing to Daryl's black eye and busted lip.

"Uh-huh."

"What did you do?"

"Huh?"

"What did you do to piss him off?"

"I didn't do _nothin'!_"

"Bullshit."

"I didn't do nothin' to Dad! He only hit me 'cause he's an asshole…and so are you!"

The swear word rolled off his tongue with satisfaction. He had been sworn at to the moon and back by his dad and brother, and it felt good to return the favor.

"You'd better watch yer mouth! I'd kill ya if I didn't want to end up back in juvie. I'm almost outta that goddamn place!" Merle snapped. He wasn't pissed off, only acting like he was. Daryl could tell – he knew his brother.

"If ya hate juvie so much, why do you keep getting' yerself sent back there?" Daryl asked. This had been bugging him for quite some time.

"Ain't no jackass police officer gonna tell me what I can and can't do! Ain't _nobody _gonna tell me that!"

"Is _that_ what yer tryin' to prove, Merle?"

"Ah, shut up, Daryl. I didn't ask for yer opinion. Nobody ever did!"

Daryl didn't respond. He was too tired, weak, and sad to argue with Merle.

* * *

It was a small funeral. Partly because it was all the Dixons could afford and partly because they knew not very many people would attend. And they were right.

They lived in a small town in Georgia filled with rednecks but, according to the townspeople, the Dixons were the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low. Most likely, this was the reason the other kids at school avoided Daryl like the plague.

A few of his mom's coworkers and some people from Daryl's elementary school came by but they didn't stay long. That was fine with Daryl. He didn't like any of the jerks who lived in town, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

"Daryl! Move yer ass! Do ya really expect yer brother and me to move all the furniture into the house ourselves?" his father barked at him and Daryl rolled his eyes. All of their possessions had burned up in their old house last month. The only furniture they were able to buy was a small couch and a kitchen table. Merle and Daryl didn't even have _beds._

Daryl followed his dad into the new house nonetheless and helped Merle move the couch into the living room. The Dixons did not upgrade when they moved into their new house. They moved from one shitty neighborhood to another shitty neighborhood.

The two boys finished moving the two pieces of furniture in the house in minutes and Daryl sat on the porch steps afterward, shivering. It was the middle of December and a thin sheet of snow covered the ground. Daryl had to brush snow off the porch step so he could sit down. He was freeing but his dad had gotten hold of the alcohol and Merle was in a bad mood so he wanted to stay far out of the way.

Daryl had taken his slingshot out of his pocket (he never went anywhere any more without the small weapon in his pocket) and flung rocks across the yard. He had been working on hitting pop cans off the fence and he was getting good. There wasn't much to do any more so Daryl entertained himself by trying to hit anything and everything with rocks he flung from his slingshot. Even Merle was impressed with his accuracy.

A girl bundled up in coats stepped outside of the house across the street. She looked his age and Daryl recognized her rom his second grade class. The girl had nice blonde hair and a plain face and her coat, scarf, gloves, boots and whatever else she was wearing, were a mixture of pinks and purples. Her face was very pale and she was very short, only coming up to Daryl's chin. The girl's boots crunched on the snow and she bent down in her front yard to make a snow ball, only the snow wasn't thick enough yet so it kept falling apart. She eventually gave up and made a snow angel.

"Who's yer girlfriend?" Merle said from behind him and Daryl jumped. He hadn't realized he had been staring at her and he hadn't realized Merle had been standing there the whole time.

"She's not my girlfriend! I know her from school, that's all!" Daryl snapped.

"You were starin' at her."

"I was tryin' to figure out where I knew her from. Quit bein' so nosy!"

"Ya gonna talk to her?"

"_No!_"

"Well, that's too bad 'cause she's on her way over," Merle said, smirking and lighting a cigarette.

Panicking, Daryl looked back across the street and sure enough, the girl was crossing the street with her eyes fixated on him. Daryl never realized how _small_ she was until he saw her close up.

"Hi, Daryl," she said.

Daryl licked his lips, fully aware of Merle standing behind them, watching smugly. He wished Merle would put out his cigarette.

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

"We're in the same class, remember? Mrs. Menthol?" the girl said and Daryl nodded.

"Oh yeah."

There was an awkward silence as the girl waited for Daryl to remember her name. When it became obvious that he didn't know it, she said, "I'm Eva."

"Okay."

"Do you want to play in the snow with me?" Eva asked.

"Um, no."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to!"

"Why not, though? I could lend you a jacket if you're cold," Eva said, her eyes sweeping over his body, which was covered in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

"Because I don't like you," Daryl said, smugly. That would get rid of Eva for sure!

"You don't even know me! We could be friends!"

Daryl didn't know what to say to that. He had never had somebody want to be friends with him this badly before – or at all. Daryl stared at his ratty tennis shoes until she went away. That was the only manly solution he could think of. After he heard Eva slam the door across the street, Daryl braced himself for Merle's taunting. He didn't have to wait long.

Merle let out a low whistle. "That was pretty pathetic, little brother."

"Shut up, Merle!"

"You need to learn how to talk to girls, Darlina."

"Don't call me Darlina! And _you_ don't know how to talk to girls, either! All the girls in town are either scared'a ya or think yer trash!" Daryl snapped. He expected Merle to get angry but his brother just laughed.

"Ya think they don't think the same about you?" Merle asked and then paused. Daryl couldn't see Merle because he was standing behind him but he could tell he was pointing at Eva's house. "Well, 'cept for that one."

Daryl squeezed the base of his slingshot so hard he was afraid it would break. He had forgotten he was holding it. Merle sat down next to him on the porch step and put out his cigarette in the snow.

"Come on inside. I'll even let you have the bigger room 'cause you can see your girlfriend's house from there. I won't even tell Dad yer creepin' on 'er."

"Oh, _blow me!_" Daryl said, jumping to his feet and stomping into the house. He could hear Merle laughing at him and it made his blood boil.

* * *

Recess was a drag. There was no point to it if you didn't have any friends to play with. Daryl usually sat under the shade of a large tree and watched the other kids on the playground but today his spot was occupied by a group of girls, sitting in a circle on the snow and giggling shrilly. Among them was Eva. Daryl vaguely wondered what they were giggling about but didn't dare ask them. Merle had been right about one thing: he didn't know how to talk to girls.

Daryl used to play Woodchips and Hide 'N Seek with Michael and the other neighborhood kids last year but then his friends moved into Junior High. He didn't talk to those guys much any more since he had moved. Merle was in Junior High too. Daryl couldn't believe that. Twelve seemed so grown up and far away.

He wandered around the empty soccer field, kicking around balls and stomping his name into the snow with his footprints. His idjit teacher had described the weather outside as a winter wonderland but she was wrong. It was cold and it got dark earlier and the snow was gray and it _hurt_ when someone hit you with it. Daryl hated winter. All the spoiled brats who liked wintertime was only because their rich parents could afford warm clothes. As he thought of this, Daryl shivered. Damp jeans and a thin sweatshirt wasn't enough to warm _anything._

"Class, come on inside for lunch!" Mrs. Menthol called and Daryl ran inside after the other kids. On his way in, Daryl made sure to kick snow at Mrs. Menthol. There was her winter wonderland.

Daryl sat alone at his usual lunch table and glared at first graders who tried to sit with hi. His stomach twisted and growled with hunger and he suddenly wished he had taken advantage of winter and eaten the snow outside. He closed his eyes and imagined himself crouching down in the snow and taking a chunk of it in his frozen fingers, raising the white powder to his mouth and gulping it all down. He would deal with the cold if he could just _eat._

"Can I sit here?" A sweet and familiar voice rang in his ears, breaking him away from his thoughts and forcing him to open his eyes. It was Eva. Of course it was Eva.

"Do what yeh want," he grumbled.

"Okay, I will," she said and sat down across from him. She opened up her lunchbox – pink with yellow flowers – and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that looked like somebody had stomped on it.

"Yuck!" she cried and reached over to toss the sandwich in the garbage can.

"Whoa! What're you doin'?" Daryl cried and she stopped, her hand hovering over the lid of the trash can. "Don't throw it away!"

"Why not? It's smushed! _I'm_ not gonna eat it!"

"I'll eat it then! Give it here!" Daryl knew he sounded demanding but he didn't care. There was _food_ in front of him and he was going to get his hands on it one way or another.

Wordlessly, Eva handed the sandwich to Daryl and watched him scarf it down. "Jeez, you look like you haven't eaten in a week!"

"It's been a while," he answered honestly after squeezing the last of the sandwich down his gullet.

"Whaddaya mean? Doesn't your daddy feed you?" she asked, opening a bag of carrots and celery sticks.

"Nah. He doesn't care if Merle 'n I eat or not. We have to kinda find food ourselves."

"Is Merle yer brother? The one from the porch a few days ago?"

"Yep."

"He scares me," Eva said quietly.

Daryl snorted. "He has that effect on most people."

"Does he scare you?"

"Merle? Nah. I ain't scared of anything."

"Yeah, right! What about werewolves or clowns or tornadoes…or monsters?"

"Nope."

Eva was looking at him with a kind of admiration. She looked…impressed. Daryl liked that she was looking at him like that. He liked that he could impress somebody.

"I'm scared of _all_ those things," Eva admitted, chomping loudly on a celery stick.

"Werewolves aren't real, clowns are funny tornadoes can't get ya if ya hide in a bomb shelter or basement or something, and monster can be fought off," he said simply.

Eva looked intrigued. "You can fight off monsters? How?"

"Well, _we_ can't. But moms, dads and older brothers can."

"I'm an only child!"

"Have yer daddy scare them off when he tucks you in at night."

"Okay. Does yer daddy do the same for you?"

"No," Daryl said and then lied, "My brother does."

Of course Daryl knew that monsters weren't real but he thought he would humor the girl. He just hoped she never brought up this conversation around Merle.

"I never noticed you in class before we became neighbors. Isn't that funny?" Eva asked.

"I guess so."

Daryl had noticed Eve before and had dubbed her snotty. He was happy to know that he had been wrong. He wondered what Eva's first impression of him had been.

* * *

Eva sat with Daryl at lunch every day until Christmas break and over the break, Eva knocked on his door all the time, asking if he could "come out and play". Merle and all the other kids in his class called them boyfriend and girlfriend because, at their age, it wasn't normal for a boy and a girl to hang out together.

Eva was nice and all, and she was starting to grow on him, but he wished she would back off a little. He wasn't used to doing the friend thing. He didn't even know how to _be_ a friend.

"It's easy!" Eva chirped when he asked her. She had just gotten him a Christmas gift and he hadn't gotten her one, which made him feel bad. "You just have to be nice and make your friend laugh and feel good!"

"I don't think that's right," Daryl said. He was sure she had just given him the Girl Definition.

"That's what my mom told me." Yep. Definitely the Girl Definition.

"Oh, okay."

Daryl quickly found out that Eva was one of the kids who friggin' _adored_ winter. All she talked about was Christmas and hot chocolate and snow and candy canes. All Daryl cared about was that it was cold.

Daryl still didn't know who to ask about friendship. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask Merle. Daryl racked his brain for weeks. In the meantime, he just let Eva chatter away during lunch and agreed with everything she said. New Year's rolled around and so did Valentine's Day and Daryl still had nothing. He wished he wasn't so awkward.

"Daryl," Merle's scruff voice broke through his thoughts. "Daryl, yer idiot friend is here."

"Eva?" he guessed.

"No, idiot. I didn't say girlfriend, did I? It's Matt or something from the old neighborhood."

Daryl perked up. "Michael?"

"Yeh, yeh. Whatever."

Daryl ran down the stairs and to the front door. He hadn't seen any of his friends from the neighborhood in months! Daryl paused right before his hand touched the door knob. Michael was his friend.

"Holy shit!" Daryl yelped and then threw open the front door.

"Hey, Daryl. My mama wanted me to bring this over –"

"Michael! Get yer ass in here!"

Michael awkwardly stepped inside. He was wearing a nice shirt – the nicest Daryl had ever seen him wear – and carrying a box.

"How ya been?" Daryl asked cheerfully. Michael looked nervous. It didn't occur to Daryl until later that it was probably because he was afraid of Merle.

"Not bad. I brought yeh some clothes I outgrew," Michael said and handed him the box.

"Ayuh," Daryl said and set it down in the hallway. "Listen, Mikey, I got a question to ask yeh. And let's be quick 'cause I got stuff to do."

It was true. Eva was coming over soon to watch Daryl shoot stuff in the backyard with his slingsot.

"Fine. What is it?"

"How do ya be friends with a girl?"

"Huh?"

"What're ya, deaf? I said, how do ya be friends with a girl?"

Michael frowned, screwing up his face in concentration. "Yer a little young for a girlfriend, ain't ya?"

"She's not my girlfriend! Jesus! Why does everybody ask that!?"

"Okay, _fine._ She's not yer girlfriend. Why do yeh want to know?"

"'Cause I've never been friends with a girl before! What kind of stuff are you supposed to _do?_ I don't even know what to say! All I do is listen to her talk and agree with her."

Michael bust out laughing. He grabbed his sides and his face turned red, he was laughing so hard.

"Hey! What's so funny?" Daryl demanded. Was Michael laughing at him?

"That's what yer _supposed_ to do, idjit! Girls don't care 'bout yer opinion! They just want y to agree with 'em," Michael panted. He was still clutching his sides.

"Really? That's it?"

"Hell yeah!"

When Eva came over later, Daryl didn't say a word and focused on shooting random objects. (He couldn't aim at squirrels because Eva shrieked every time he mentioned injuring one.) Eva got angry with him for not contributing to the conversation and left. Daryl concluded that Michael knew even less about girls than Merle.


	4. Chapter 4

The school year ended and Daryl managed not to scare Eva off. She hung out with him often over the summer, despite all of her girl friends at school telling her he was trash. She invited him to go to the water park and other various places but Daryl had to decline because he was too afraid to ask his father. He also spent time with the kids from his old neighborhood. Mostly Michael, though. Merle got put in juvie again, for only a few weeks this time. While he was gone, Daryl tried one of his cigarettes and got hooked. He and Merle went hunting with their Uncle Pete in August and now Daryl could hit a moving squirrel with his slingshot without batting an eye.

It was the best summer of his life.

"My mama keeps yellin' at me for walking home from school alone. She keeps sayin' that it's not safe out there," Eva ranted.

"It ain't," Daryl replied.

"I know _that._ But I can take care of myself!"

Daryl chucked. "Sure ya can."

"You can go anywhere you want by yerself!" she protested. "I'm nine years old! I can go places alone, ya know!"

It was a cool September afternoon and the two kids were roaming the neighborhood. Eva was ranting but Daryl was only half listening. He was busy thinking about the thrill he had gotten from hunting and how he wanted to do it his whole life. He was itching to go home and shoot more animals with pebbles flung from his trusty slingshot. That was all that interested him right now. Eva's problems were second class.

"Daryl? Don't ignore me!" she whined.

"I'm not ignorin' ya! Jeez."

"You're bein' all quiet again. I hate when you do that. It makes me feel like a chatterbox."

"You _are_ a chatterbox."

"Shut up!"

It was Sunday. Eva's birthday had been the day before. He was hanging out with her now to make up for not going to her birthday party. There was no way he would get caught at a party with a bunch of girls.

Eva squinted at the sky, turning to look at the sun. "What time do ya think it is?"

"I dunno. Noon, maybe?" Daryl guessed.

"Crap. My mama wants me home at noon for lunch. Want to come?"

"Nah." Eva's mom freaked him out. "I'll walk ya home, if ya like."

"NO!" she shrieked. "I can walk home by myself!" Eva turned and sprinted down the street, her golden hair whipping around her face and her sneakers kicking up dust. Daryl watched her go. Eva's mother was crazy and overbearing but she was right. It wasn't safe for kids to walk around alone – there were a lot of psychos out there. Daryl wished his father would care enough to forbid him from walking alone.

* * *

Daryl was late to the bus Monday morning. He threw on one of Michael's old shirts and a pair of pants and ran out the door. He then had to run back to put his shoes on. When he got to the bus stop, there was nobody there and he was sure he missed it. Daryl swore and was about to turn around when he saw the big yellow bus flying around the corner.

"Shit!"

"Hold on!"

"Crap! The bus is here!"

Other kids in the neighborhood were yelling at each other as they bolted to the bus stop. When the bus came to a stop, they trampled over each other to get on. Daryl was last, despite being the first one there. He scanned the neighborhood. Eva was always the first one at the stop. Where was she?

"Hey, kid, are you getting on or what?" the bus driver asked.

"Just a minute!" Daryl barked and scanned the neighborhood again. Nothing.

"Kid, I ain't gonna wait here all day. Are ya coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'!" Daryl got on the bus and sat down close to the front, his nose pressed up against the glass as he once again looked for his friend. Still nothing.

Daryl convinced himself that Eva's paranoid mother had driven her to school and the blonde girl with the pale face and brown eyes exited his mind. He would see her at school.

Except he didn't. _Maybe she's sick,_ he thought. But she seemed fine yesterday. She could have ditched but that wasn't like Eva. She loved school. _Maybe she's visiting family. Maybe she had a doctor's appointment. Maybe her grandmother died and she had to go away for a while with her parents to plan the funeral. Maybe, maybe, maybe…_

It drove Daryl crazy, not knowing. He wasn't seriously worried about her (she was probably fine) but Eva always told him what was going on. Any emotion she had, good or bad, she made sure Daryl knew about it. It got annoying at times but at least he knew what was going on with her. Now she was just gone.

"Whatever," Daryl said out loud to himself at recess. She probably threw up in the middle of the night and got to stay home for the day. She was fine. He needed to stop worrying about her like an old granny and think about something else.

The worst part was that he had to sit by himself at lunch that day. He had gotten so used to Eva giving him her sandwich that going one day without it was torture. By the end of the day, he was starving. He couldn't wait to make Eva feel bad about staying in bed and eating soup while she left him at school to rot.

The school bus rolled up to his street. Daryl saw police cars. The other kids were marveling at the flashing lights and rushing off the bus to find out what was going on. Meanwhile, Daryl was having police-related flashbacks.

_"…my name is Officer Ronaldo…"_

_"…very bad news…"_

_"Your mother didn't make it…"_

The bus driver cleared her throat. "This is your stop, kid. Go on."

Numbly, Daryl stood up and got off the bus. _Please be for Merle,_ he prayed silently. _Please, oh please, let the cops be here to take Merle back to juvie._ They weren't here for Merle, though, and deep down, Daryl knew it.

Daryl approached his house and saw the police cruisers parked in front of the house across the street. Police officers (Officer Ronaldo included) were questioning a very hysterical Eva's mother. A very familiar feeling washed over him, fear and denial soaking in. He did not want to know, did not want to find out. He knew it was too late for that, however, when Officer Ronaldo spotted him standing there and approached him, acting as if they were old friends.

"Hey there, kiddo. How ya been? Do ya mind if I ask ya a few questions?"

Daryl's mouth went dry and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Daryl? Ya okay, buddy?"

"Questions about wha'? About Eva?" he asked and Officer Ronaldo nodded solemnly. "What's wrong wit' 'er? Where is she?"

"I'm afraid we don't know. Now, when was the last time you saw Eva Montgomery?" Officer Ronaldo asked.

"Yesterday. Whaddaya mean, ya don't know? Has she gone missin'?"

"Daryl –"

"Well?"

"Daryl, please –"

"Answer me!"

"_Yes,_" Officer Ronaldo snapped forcefully. "Her mother hasn't seen her since this mornin'. She didn't come to school today."

"Well, I know _that,_" Daryl said, his snarkiness covering up the terror he felt inside.

"Right. Now what did you and Eva do yesterday?"

"I dunno. Why is it importan'?"

"Think, Daryl. When did you see her last? What was she wearing? Any details will help."

"Why does it _matter?_ She went missin' this morning', not yesterday!" Daryl cried and Officer Ronaldo sighed and massaged his temples.

* * *

Days passed and there was no news on Eva's whereabouts. The police had no new information and no leads, which Daryl thought was pathetic. It was their job to know, but they had nothing. Idjits. Daryl seethed over this all week and awoke Friday morning with a plan he seemed to have hatched in his dreams: he would look for Eva himself.

**DAY 1: FRIDAY**

A rare kind of excitement rose in Daryl as he watched the bus pull away from the stop that morning without him on it. Neither his brother nor his father would care if he ditched school – Merle was upstairs sleeping (Daryl suspected he was ditching as well) and Dear Old Dad was lying passed out on the couch, drooling and smelling like beer.

Daryl walked out of the house, not bothering to keep his movements quiet. No one would notice his absence. He headed in the direction of the woods. He had been in there many times to practice with his slingshot and, every once in a while, took Eva with him. However, it was very easy to get lost in those woods so he had instructed Eva to never go in alone. But Daryl knew better than anybody that his friend hated being told what to do. Maybe she had wandered off in there to prove she could take care of herself and got lost. It wasn't very likely, but it was the only lead Daryl had. Besides, the woods were Daryl's domain. If Eva was in there, he'd be able to find her.

The woods seemed to open up and welcome him when he entered and Daryl felt at home. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a scream: "EVA!" He called out her name again and again, but got no answer. _Maybe she's already dead;_ he thought but forced the idea out of his brain. He couldn't stop picturing Eva lying face down, a gash on the side of her head and blood clotting her hair. Or worse, Eva hiding somewhere, wasting away from starvation and when Daryl finally finds her, it's too late.

Daryl broke into a run, his heartbeat quickening, and he screamed out Eva's name again with a panicky voice. He knew he shouldn't be yelling and that he should pay attention to where he was going but he couldn't stop seeing Eva dead every time he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how long or how far he ran but when he finally stopped, he had no idea where he was. He had never been this far in the woods before.

Terror filled Daryl up like poison once he realized he was lost. How was he going to find Eva if he was lost?

"Eva!" he screamed as loud as he could. "EVA! COME ON OUT!" He got no reply. That scared the shit out of him. Daryl laughed nervously because if he didn't laugh, he would cry. "Eva, come on out now! I know yer out there!" Silence.

Daryl forced himself not to panic and began to wander through the forest. He came into the woods to look for Eva and he'd be damned if he was going to quit now, lost or not.

A part of him swelled with pride. All of Eva's other friends were at school and he alone had gone out to search for her. It was obvious who cared the most about her. Daryl was determined to find Eva now. He would not – could not – return home without her. The whole town would be disappointed in him for failing. He would not be able to live with himself if he failed her.

He called out Eva's name again and kept his eyes peeled for any signs that a little girl had been there. He searched what seemed like the whole forest. It was warm out but, luckily, the treetops kept the sun from beating down on him. As the day wore on, Daryl's stomach began to growl but he ignored it. He was used to being hungry. Finding Eva was more important. Eventually, the air began to get cool and the woods got darker. It got harder for Daryl to continue putting one foot in front of the other and his eyes began to droop. The friendly welcoming woods grew dark and frightening. He didn't feel welcome there any more. He wanted to be curled up in his bed that had springs poking out of the mattress because Merle found it in the junkyard. Daryl hated that bed but, as he was lying, shivering, on the forest floor, he missed it terribly.

The forest was cold at night. Daryl was curled up in a ball at the base of a large tree, his teeth chattering. He couldn't help but think of Eva, who must be curled up somewhere in the woods as well. She must be. He felt terribly sorry for her. Monsters seemed to lurk in the shadows and every small sound sounded like a footstep or a sinister laugh. Daryl knew that the monsters and noises were just his imagination, but Eva probably didn't. She was naïve and small and probably miserable right now. Daryl wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to speak to her so badly it felt like an ache in his heart.

Daryl didn't sleep for a long time. He tried not to think of Eva and instead, focused on where he would look tomorrow. His uncle Pete had taught him the basics of tracking over the summer and tried to remember every single thing he had been taught. _This_ was what was important, not stupid things like math class. Thoughts whirled around in Daryl's brain until he drifted off to sleep and Eva haunted his dreams.

**DAY 2: SATURDAY**

Daryl wasn't sure what woke him up that morning. It could have been the noises of the forest or his nightmares, but he has a feeling that his rumbling stomach woke him up. He had laid, curled up at the base of the tree, for what seemed like all morning, too weak from hunger to move. Finally, he had crawled around the forest floor in search of food until he stumbled upon a patch of berries. He had had no idea if they were poisonous or not but stuffed his face with them, anyway. He assumed they were safe to eat, since he was still alive.

More images of dead Eva filled his brain (Eva's glassy, lifeless eyes staring up at him with poisonous berry juice on her face; Eva's eyes bulging and her tiny hands clutching her throat as she choked) until he nearly drove himself insane. He couldn't keep thinking about Eva being dead – it would make him panic. Uncle Pete said the most important thing about tracking was being focused. He decided to motivate himself by replacing Dead Eva with Alive Eva Who Gets Saved By Daryl. His fantasies greatly improved his mood.

Daryl searched the ground the ground for the faintest trace of footprints but, even though he was fully focused, found nothing. His bladder throbbed (he had been holding it since yesterday) and he relieved himself behind the tree. He didn't have any toilet paper so he just wiggled his hips until the droplets of pee fell onto the forest floor. Daryl then pulled up his pants and continued his search for his friend.

"Eva! Come on out now!" he called, his voice carrying confidently. "It's Daryl! I'm here to bring ya home!" The silence of the woods answered him. He was starting to get angry now. Why wasn't Eva answering him? He stomped around the forest and screamed Eva's name for quite some time. He only stopped because his throat was hoarse and he was afraid he would lose his voice if he kept hollering. Tears of frustration filled Daryl's eyes as the silence of the forest mocked him. Where the hell _was_ Eva?

Daryl wondered where the police were looking right now. They ought to follow his example and look for her in the woods. Eva _was_ here in the woods somewhere. He was sure of it. He also wondered what his father and brother were doing right now. He had been gone for a day and a half – they had to be worried sick about him. That thought made him happy and motivated him to keep looking for Eva instead of laying down and giving up. He wasn't a quitter. He was a Dixon.

Daryl longed for his slingshot. It was stupid of him not to bring it, to have thought he wouldn't need it. The slingshot was in his room, in a pocket of clean (ish) pair of pants, lying in a house with a bed and a big brother who would take care of him. Daryl missed Merle and wanted to rely on his brother for food and comfort. But at the same time he missed his mother, who he had failed to save, and knew he would have to survive on his own if he wanted to save Eva. It was a scary concept, but he knew he could do it. He had survived on his own before, scared out of his mind with no food or anyone to comfort him. It was the same thing now, just in a different setting.

But could Eva survive out here alone? He wasn't so sure, but he had to believe that she could. It wasn't so far-fetched, was it? Eva was a lot tougher than she looked, he knew that.

Wind rustled the tree branches and Daryl shivered. He wishes he had a jacket. Or shoes, even. Why had he left the house without shoes? It was chilly in the forest so Daryl concentrated on his tracking to keep his mind off it. He shouted Eva's name a few times, hoping the wind would carry his voice but still didn't get a reply. The wind blew harder still as he walked deeper into the woods and Daryl feared it was going to rain. He hated rain almost as much as snow – it was cold and wet and would ruin any progress he had gotten in tracking. He would have to abandon his search for Eva for the day and find shelter. He didn't want to do that. He _really_ hoped it wouldn't rain.

No sooner than the thought crossed his mind did thunder boom overhead. A solitary raindrop landed on Daryl's forehead and he wiped it away.

"Just my luck," he grumbled and wildly searched for a tree with branches large enough to shield him from the rain. He found one just before it started to pour and was amazed at his luck when the wind carried the rain in his direction, splattering him with cold droplets of water. Daryl cursed and longed for a better shelter but he knew he would get soaked if he didn't stay put.

His stomach growled but there were no berries at the base of his tree and he had to pee (again) badly but he didn't want to pee close to where he was crouching. Daryl shivered and whimpered, softly. He was in for a rough day or night, whatever time of day it was.

**DAY 3: SUNDAY**

When Daryl woke up, it had stopped raining. He was surprised because yesterday had felt like an eternity. He had expected it to keep raining forever.

The first thing he did when he got up was go to the bathroom. He cursed himself again for forgetting his shoes while he urinated on a pile of wet leaves. Standing on the wet forest floor was disgusting. After he had finished peeing, Daryl crouched down and went No. 2. He grabbed a leaf that was tickling his foot and used it to wipe his ass.

Feeling loads better, he wandered the forest until he found a clump of berries and devoured them all. Once his food supply had gone, he scratched his ass and continued forward.

Being miserable last night had been awful, but it had also brought him to his senses. He realized now that he never should have come into the forest. Even if Eva was in here, he should have let the authorities handle it. He had been stupid to think a kid (who wasn't even nine yet!) could accomplish what the police could not. For now, he would concentrate on finding his way home.

"Who knows? Maybe they found Eva," he said out loud to himself. The more he thought about it, the more realistic this idea sounded. In fact, the police were probably out searching for _him_ now.

Daryl had a bounce in his step and whistled as he walked across the forest floor. Besides his hunger returning and his butt itching like mad, he was in a good mood.

He wandered the woods for some time, doing his best to leave clear footprints so it would be easier for the police to track him when they came looking. His mind and heart were thinking positively but his body was screaming for attention. Daryl cleared his throat to keep it from being too dry, but his attempts only made things worse. He couldn't remember ever being so thirsty. Daryl's throat was parched, his lips were cracked and dry, and the humidity of the air made his clothes stick to his wet skin. He hadn't realized how much his body needed nutrition. Still, he was alive and had a small amount of food in his stomach to fuel his body. He was doing okay for a helpless kid lost in the forest.

Daryl thought about the outside world as he traveled through the woods. He wondered what everybody was doing. Memories of his friends and family seemed hazy and distant, due to his being gone so long. He wondered if they were even real or if he had made them all up. Daryl then decided that they had to be real because if he had made up people to interact with, he would have made people who were a lot nicer to him. Daryl thought a little bit about _why_ people weren't nice to him, but soon gave up on the thought. That was just the way people were.

It was truly terrifying when he realized he didn't know how to get out of the forest. Sure, he had known he was lost, but he had figured that he would find the exit eventually. Now he knew that this was not the case. He could have been walking in circles for all he knew.

"Hello?" he cried out, knowing full well that he was alone and would not get a reply. The fear made him have to pee again and he urinated in the bushes. The fiery itching in his butt became too extreme to ignore and scratched viciously at his bare bottom until he drew blood. His bottom still itched (and now throbbed) but he was too scared to scratch it any more. He feared he would need medical attention (if) he got back and wasn't sure his father could afford it.

What a fool he had been. Thinking back, he was sure that he had used poison ivy as a substitute for toilet paper. How could he have been so stupid? He knew how to identify poison ivy, yet he hadn't done so. He only had his own stupidity to blame for his itchy butt.

Daryl was ashamed of himself. A true hunter would be able to survive in the forest for weeks without getting scared and here he was, only three days in and already scared out of his wits. Uncle Pete could do better and so could Merle. Daryl felt a sense of longing when he thought of his older brother. Merle would knock down the trees and clear a path for himself to the way out. Merle was as tough as nails. Merle never got scared. Ever.

Daryl spent the rest of his afternoon wandering around the forest, lost in his daydreams and humming softly to himself. He hadn't been aware of what he had been humming until he stopped to scratch his ass again and the forest became so quiet that the humming was the only sound there was. It was the lullaby his mother would sing to him at night when he was really little. The lullaby would calm him down; maybe that was why he was humming it now. But that didn't make any sense. He _was_ calm. He would walk around and the inner hunter in him would guide him to his house. It would all be okay.

Daryl wandered the forest and convinced himself of this until he collapsed from exhaustion.

**DAY 4: MONDAY**

Eva would be in school right now. Daryl had managed to keep track of the days and was sure it was Monday. Or – or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was Tuesday. Or Wednesday. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that he had no idea what day it was. Maybe days didn't exist in the forest and he was stuck in some kind of time warp.

Daryl was actually starting to question his hunting abilities. Maybe the hunter inside him _didn't_ know the way out. Maybe he would wander around in this forest until he was dead and that would be it. Daryl started to feel claustrophobic, despite the forest being very large, and he broke into a run. He knew that this was the type of reckless behavior that had gotten him lost in the first place, but he didn't care. He was scared and he wanted his legs to carry him far away from this place. His mind and wit had failed him, so now it was his legs' turn to attempt to find a way out of the maze that was the woods.

Daryl began to panic. He was sprinting through the trees, screaming for help from anyone. He yelled out Merle's name, his mother and father's, even Michael's. Mostly Merle's, though. Daryl wanted to keep running until he found a way out, but he was depending solely on energy that he didn't have and was forced to stop running. He collapsed on the forest floor, his legs feeling like jelly and his lungs on fire.

Lying on the forest floor, Daryl was suddenly aware of how bad he smelled. The Dixons often had their water shut off, so hygiene wasn't exactly a priority for Daryl and Merle, but wandering for days in the woods can really do something for a guy's B.O. He was disgusted with himself and planned to lay on the ground until he wasn't disgusted with himself any more, but suspected that he would be there all day so he forced himself to get up and keep moving.

He just needed to pick a direction and keep going in a straight line. He would find his way out, eventually. The forest couldn't go on forever.

Daryl thought this was a good plan – he couldn't think of a better one – so he went ahead and followed it. A million things ran through his mind as he walked and sweat and nearly passed out and walked some more. He thought about his family and Eva and the first thing he would eat when he got out. Now that he thought about it, all of the make-up work he would have to do when he got back would be overwhelming. Daryl hardly ever did his homework, but he did enough to scrape by. He would have to do at least half of it to pass third grade.

He didn't like school. The only part he liked about it was seeing Eva. He couldn't wait to go back and tell her all about his adventure and learn all about hers. She must have gone on an adventure of her own, that's why she was gone for so long. It would be good for Eva to grow up a little bit.

Eva. Daryl missed her so much it hurt. He missed her blonde hair and her high-pitched laugh and her kindness. She had been the only person to make him a Valentine's Day card last year. He still had it in his room.

Daryl had always described Eva as plain. There were plenty of other girls in his class who were better looking than her, so he understood where he had come from then, but now he knew he was wrong. Now he knew she was stunningly beautiful.

Daryl thought about Eva to distract himself from the heat and the bugs and how thirsty he was. He thought about everything he missed about her, from her reckless stunts to impress him to her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Daryl knew that thinking about food was a mistake as soon as it entered his mind. He longed for more berries, but failed to find any. All of his dehydration had kept his focus away from his ever-growing hunger, but he had reminded himself. How could he? He was so stupid.

He stopped looking for berries and continued along his route. He didn't have time to stop for snacks if he wanted to find his way out of the forest before he wasted away. The very thought of it frightened him. What if he didn't make it out in time? What if he starved or dehydrated or melted from the heat first? What if, years from now, some poor sucker would be hiking through these woods and stumble upon his skeleton?

He shuddered and forced his mind away from any nightmarish aspects. He didn't force himself to stay on one thought, but rather let his mind wander, as long as it was away from scary thoughts. Daryl wondered if Eva had come around his house, looking for him yet. If she had, he hoped Merle was nice to her.

Daryl thought about his mom for a while. He was almost glad she was gone, so she wouldn't have to deal with being worried sick about him. He wondered if she as in heaven or hell and if, wherever she was, she was watching over him. He wished she would help guide his way out. _I could use your help right about now, Ma,_ he thought and glanced at the sky, in case she was watching him. He thought about his mother for a little longer until his heart started to hurt and he switched his thoughts to his old neighborhood friends. Maybe, when he was older, he could afford a bike and would be able to keep up with them. Hopefully, Merle wouldn't mind.

Then he decided, _to hell with that!_ It was his fantasy, so he could do anything he wanted. He made it so Merle had a bike, too, and he wanted to play with them. Merle and Daryl would be the best at all the games, the Dixon duo, and Michael wouldn't be scared of Merle no more.

His daydreams kept him distracted for a long while, until the sun began to disappear and the air got cold. He found a patch of berries and settled underneath a large tree for the night. He ate and thought about Eva and scratched his ass. Then he fell asleep.

**DAY 5: TUESDAY**

When Daryl finally woke up, it must have been around noon. He didn't know how he knew this – he could just feel it. He tried to keep his mind away from unpleasant things, but his thoughts kept coming back to water: how badly he needed it, where he could find it, and how he would kill for a pitcher of dirty water that he used to complain about. He continued along his route, but his dry throat demanded all of his attention and he was feeling light-headed. Several times, Daryl had to stop and rest and he could feel his head spinning. He tried to find berries, but found that he was too exhausted to do much of anything.

Fear crashed over Daryl like a tidal wave. He was dying. He envied his mother. She had burnt up in her sleep. She hadn't had to suffer like he was suffering right now. Dehydration was torture. He would kill for a glass of water. Literally.

Daryl lay sprawled on the forest floor and let his imagination do with him what it pleased. It was too late. He was wasting away and didn't have a shot in hell at surviving and –

BERRIES!

He summoned all his strength to crawl over to the large batch. He squeezed the berries until their juices squirted into his mouth and ran down his throat. It was barely enough to keep him going. He was lucky there had been such a large batch.

Daryl clumsily got to his feet and continued walking. His throat didn't feel as dry any more and he had some strength left in him, so there were two things right there to be happy about. He tried to focus on the silver lining and walked a little further. He was about to search for more berries when a flash of blonde hair caught his eye. He spun to face the direction where it came from. There was only one person he knew who had blonde hair like that.

"Eva?" he called out.

He ran after her.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	5. Chapter 5

**DAY 6: WEDNESDAY**

Daryl woke up the next morning with dirt and leftover tears on his face. Last night had been one of the scariest of his life and the aftermath of the night's terrors was still haunting him. Daryl wiped his face and got to his feet, determined to keep moving forward. He would not spend another night curled up in the woods, praying that the monsters of his imagination would not get to him.

Moving forward was all Daryl knew how to do. He was a Dixon and that was how he was brought up. There was no giving up or lying down to wait to die. It was simply not an option.

Crying was not an option any more, either. He had shed enough tears last night to last a lifetime. Merle would beat him senseless if he found out how weak his little brother had been.

But Daryl had been _so sure_ that it was Eva who he had seen in the trees yesterday. He had wandered off his path and screamed Eva's name for hours. He had sobbed and begged her to come out until it grew dark. Then he realized that he hadn't seen Eva at all and his mind was playing tricks on him due to dehydration. He knew this because his mind had played tricks on him all night long.

He had wept and hid like a child. Daryl hated himself for being so weak and wished he could be more like Merle. He never thought he would want such a thing, but now he wanted nothing more than to be just like his big brother. Merle would have fought back. Merle wouldn't have been foolish enough to enter the woods in the first place.

Daryl spent much of this day feeling terribly sorry for himself. He forgot about missing Eva or his brother and he forgot about how thirsty he was. Instead, he focused his mind and energy on how shitty his life was and always would be. Bad things always happened to people he loved – it was just a fact. He used to think it was bad luck, but now he realized that _he_ was the one who had bad luck. Maybe it would be better if he died in these woods.

Daryl wandered about, not bothering to go in a straight line or try to find his way out. Everyone he knew would be better off without him, including Eva, if she wasn't dead already. Daryl cringed at the thought. He was starting to see images of dead Eva in his head again so he forced himself not to think about it. Not knowing if she was alive or dead was driving him crazy.

He stopped wandering for a while to scratch his ass again and search for more berries. He didn't find any. Weak from hunger and unable to find the will to go on, he collapsed on the ground with no intention of getting up. He closed his eyes with no intention of waking up.

**DAY 8: FRIDAY**

Daryl dreamt of his mother. She was dressed in all white and laughed as he chased her through the woods. These were not the same woods he had gotten lost in. These woods were much smaller and friendlier. His mother disappeared from view and all he saw of her before she disappeared was a flash of blonde hair. Daryl stopped running. His mom had brown hair, like him.

A girlish giggle took him by surprise and he began to run again. This time, he wasn't running after his mother, but away from the giggle. The giggle itself was not unpleasant, but he had a dangerous feeling that the news the girl with the giggle would bring was. Daryl ran until he couldn't run any more. He stopped to catch his breath and heard the giggle again…coming from behind him. He shrieked, but couldn't run because the girl had hold of his collar.

"Play with me, Daryl!"

Daryl opened his mouth to shriek again when his eyes flew open. He almost yelled again, but a very long, we tongue was licking every inch of his face. Yes, a tongue. Daryl's first thought was that a pervert had found him, but when his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that the licker was not human.

"Nice doggie," he said and calmly sat up. The brown dog yipped with joy and Daryl reached up to scratch it behind the ears, but it darted away. The dog came lumbering back only to dart away again when Daryl tried to touch it. They continued with this game for some time.

"What do you _want?_" Daryl moaned. The dog just stared at him and wagged its tail furiously. Daryl got to his feet, despite barely being able to sit up, and the dog ran off into the darkness when he did.

"WAIT!" Daryl screamed and heard the dog bark not far ahead. It was waiting for him to follow. Slowly, he shuffled after it.

The dog seemed to know Daryl was weak because it walked at a slow pace. Daryl had named it Hunter somewhere along the way, despite the dog collar with his real name on it. The name seemed fitting. The dog was more of a hunter than he was. Daryl drooped with sadness as he trudged through the forest at night. He wasn't sure what day it was or how long he had been passed out. All he knew was that Hunter had found him and was leading him home and he was grateful, even if he was a little bitter that he couldn't do it himself.

Daryl followed his faithful dog through the woods for what seemed like forever. He was beginning to wonder if Hunter was just as lost as he was when a whistle pierced the silence. A voice called, "Lila! Come here, girl!"

Hunter took off running.

_Lila?_ Daryl thought. _Hunter's a girl?_ He hadn't bothered to check the dog's genitals. He wanted to believe it was because every dog was a boy to him, but he knew the real reason: he hadn't believed a girl could be so brave and badass. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

**DAY 9: SATURDAY**

Lila had left him, but Daryl was not afraid. He just continued following the direction she had gone. Her master's whistle had been close, which meant civilization was, too. Excitement gripped Daryl, and he began to walk faster.

Just when Daryl was about to collapse again, the trees seemed to open up and he walked out. He saw roads and houses and cars. It was the middle of the night, so no people were on the streets, but he appreciated their presence. Daryl meant to thank Lila, but he was faint with hunger and instinctively began to walk in the direction of his house. It was a long walk, but the thought of eating something besides berries kept him motivated. When his house finally loomed into view, Daryl wanted to run, but didn't have the energy. He continued with his slow shuffle until he was on his front porch.

The door was unlocked. Daryl was unsurprised, but grateful all the same. His feet led him to the kitchen, where he moved a few of his father's beer bottles around in the fridge and grabbed a pack of lunch meat. He put the meat on two loaves of bread and ate his sandwich over the garbage can, not bothering to grab a plate. He was too hungry for that.

The next thing he did was take a shower. The water was surprisingly warm and Daryl was in there for quite some time, scrubbing the dirt and grime off his body. When he had finished, Daryl crawled into his bed, naked, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Daryl woke up the next morning feeling better than he ever had. Sure, he had just spent an eternity wandering around in a forest but right now he was well fed, well rested, and clean. It had been a good night.

He slithered out of bed, threw on some clothes, and was about to go downstairs when he caught a glimpse of something through his window: Eva's house. _Eva._ How could he have forgotten about her? Daryl sprinted to Merle's room and threw himself onto his brother, who was still curled up in bed.

"What the fuck, Daryl? Get the hell offa me!"

Merle threw Daryl onto the floor and rolled back over. He began to snore again when Daryl jumped back on him and shook him until he was awake and stayed awake.

"You piece of shit! I oughta kick yer ass!" Merle snapped.

"Kick my ass later! Where's Eva?" Daryl asked.

"Wha?"

"Did the cops find Eva?"

The look on Merle's face was a mix of confusion and pity. "Yeah, last week. What the hell are ya askin' me for? You were there!"

It began to sink in that Merle had not noticed Daryl's absence, but Daryl was in too good of a mood to care. Eva had been found! The nightmare was over.

"Where did they find her?"

"Huh?"

"Eva. Where did they find her? Is she at home now? I need to talk to her!" Daryl chirped.

"Are you okay, Darlina?" Merle asked cautiously. His tough-as-nails older brother looked scared.

"I'm fine. Where's Eva?"

"She's dead."

It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Daryl couldn't breathe. He couldn't think straight, so his brain jumped to the only possible conclusion.

"You're lying!" he accused.

"I ain't no liar! The cops found yer stupid friend dead in an alley somewhere! Her clothes were torn up and shit and there was fucking blood everywhere. What the hell's the _matter_ with you? You heard the announcement at school! It's all everyone in town can talk about! Stop acting so damn clueless!"

Merle immediately regretted his harsh words because Daryl screamed and sobbed and beat his fists against Merle's chest. Daryl heard Merle yelling at him to calm down, he heard his father thundering up the stairs, demanding to know why they had woken him up, but Daryl ignored them both. All he really heard were Merle's words: _She's dead._


End file.
